


honesty hour

by thimbleswrites



Series: with the lights out, it's less dangerous [2]
Category: Daybreakers (2009)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Isolation, Language, Mentions of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 09:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimbleswrites/pseuds/thimbleswrites
Summary: Anita, a human that Edward has been harboring in his house for years, struggles with the isolation of living as a fugitive in a world full of vampires. With the threat of being reduced to nothing but a Blood Donor looming just outside the walls of Edward's house, she must decide whether it is time to end it all or find a way to deal with the desolation.But is the dangerous game she finds herself playing with Frankie Dalton, Edward's human-hunting brother, the best solution to her loneliness?Set pre-Daybreakers.





	honesty hour

After sex they sit in the pitch darkness and talk to each other. It's like some form of bizarre honesty hour; an odd, unspoken agreement made long ago when they first started this – _whatever_ this is. The rules are pretty simple: no question is off-limits and they must tell the candid truth. Everything else is mercurial.

"Well that's...hm...fresh air, I guess."

" _Bullshit_. Don't be a smartass."

"I'm _not_. You asked what I missed most often." Anita says, lying horizontally on his bed with her head resting on his bare stomach and her feet dangling off the side. She stares blankly into the black nothingness above her. "The breeze against my skin, inhaling the fresh scent of being outdoors, the sun's warmth soaking through me. It's actually pretty ironic."

"What is?" Frankie asks, sounding only mildly interested as he takes the last drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out on the ashtray beside him.

"The fact that I really hated sunny days." She smirks. "I liked rainy, gray ones and being out at nighttime when it was dark and cold and quiet." She goes on, her voice wistful with an undercurrent of bitterness. "You'd think I'd be the perfect candidate for vampirism, huh?"

"Then why – "

She cuts him off, sensing what he is going to ask. "I don't want to walk around without a heartbeat. It's just not right."

He makes a hissing noise under his breath, exasperated. "That's – that's _nothing_ . It's a trivial repercussion of immortality – a small price to pay for endless opportunities _and_ forever to discover them." His fingers thread through the blonde hair splayed across his chest, his hand at the crown of her head, and it almost feels affectionate when he drags blunt nails along her scalp. "A heartbeat doesn't matter – I mean, look at me. I'm walking and talking and living, right?"

"That remains to be seen." Anita quips, a breathy laugh leaving her when he tugs on her hair.

He continues as if he hadn't heard her. "Having a beating heart doesn't mean shit."

"Means shit to me."

"Why?" He demands. "I know you don't have this strong of conviction for something without a legitimate reason backing it up, so why the obstinacy?"

She sighs, remembering their rules, before beginning.

"When I was around nine, I think – or maybe it was ten, doesn't matter – my uncle Danny died. It was an open casket at the wake and I remember everything so clearly, from the overwhelming smell of flowers in that God awful place to the scratchy material of my dress on my skin. I remember staring down at his face and waiting for him to move or for his eyes to open but they didn't, obviously." She clears the fresh remnants of grief from her throat before continuing, "And so I placed my hand over his heart and waited: he was hard and cold and – and _still_ , and I just wanted to feel the _bump-bump_ of his heart on my fingers, y'know? But he was dead."

She shifts and adjusts herself so that she's comfortably lying on her stomach, partially on top of him with her elbow digging into his ribs and her head propped in her hand. "When people don't have a heartbeat it means they're dead, okay Frankie? They're _gone_ . You're dead, Edward's dead, and everyone _infected_ ," She spits the correct term for what he is at him, "is dead. As far as I'm concerned you're all just corpses with nerves."

The lean muscles in his abdomen tense beneath her and it's silent for a moment, but then he speaks, his tone amused, "Well don't sugar coat it, pet. Tell me how you really feel." Still, she hears the forced way he ejects the words into the air, and she considers the possibility that she hurt his feelings.

 _Right._ The day she hurts Frankie's feelings is the day he has any to begin with.

"I'm not sorry." Anita admits, bluntly. "You made your choice. And Edward, too."

"What?" He cuts in sharply. "The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you both chose this – to be what you are." She elaborates, reaching for his left hand and blindly tracing his fingers to cure her restlessness (if she doesn't, she might reach for something else and _that_ will get her on a track that won't lead to more questions for at least another hour). "He obviously regrets his decision, though. I can't imagine having a regret like that... so _final_. He never talks about his Turning, actually, what exactly – "

"Anita don't." Frankie interrupts.

" _Wha_ – " She trails off as a confused noise leaves her throat.

"Just drop it and leave it the hell alone."

"But I thought – "

"Do not ask me that. Just don't. _Please_."

Her movements still and she holds her breath – how can a single word feel like a brick being thrown into her gut? She's never heard so much desperation and pleading packed into six letters, ever, and certainly not by _Frankie_ ; the poster child for arrogance and dignity.

If she asks, he _has_ to answer; those are the rules.

"Alrighty then." She pauses and silence resumes as she ponders her question. There's a thick fog of awkwardness hanging in the air like the remnants of his last cigarette, and she swims through it for a coherent thought, managing to string a sentence together, "Tell me a secret."

"Firstly, that's not a question," He objects, his voice strong and haughty again. "And secondly – "

"Secondly, I've given you one favor and you're not getting another." She cuts in, feeling confident from his previous show of vulnerability. "So either you tell me a secret or you tell me what I asked before. Your choice."

Suddenly she feels cold hands splayed across her rib cage as he pulls her fully up onto him and then rolls over so that he's hovering in every inch of her space. A surprised trill escapes her and her arms get caught between their chests, her palms flattened against his stomach. His eyes are two golden orbs glowing in the dark above her, and Anita doesn't remember when she stopped finding the image frightening, doesn't _want_ to know when she started finding it a familiar, comforting sight.

" _You_ are very demanding today, maybe we need to fix that." He teases, lips trailing her jawline. "A little begging might do the trick, you think?"

She manages to get one hand free to flick his ear. "You're the one who'll be begging if you don't play our game fairly, Dalton. No secret, no nookie."

"You think you can use sex against me?" He blurts incredulously.

"I think I definitely can." She replies, matter-of-factly and with no small amount of smugness. "Because, sure, you could go get laid somewhere else. But it's daytime and I'm willing to bet that all your booty calls are tucked soundly into their little coffins, and even _you_ are not worth a sleepy roll in the hay at this hour."

"You're my only booty call, pet." He smirks, and the slight smile on her face spreads. It's as if he can see her in the dark, because he quickly backtracks. "Wait – _no_. That wasn't meant to sound so endearing."

"Oh, no?" She chuckles. "Thanks anyway."

"The intent was very much an insult, all right? I insulted you, so don't look so pleased with yourself."

"How do you know how I look?"

"Because I can fucking _hear_ your self-satisfied thoughts. Knock it off."

His mock serious tone contrast greatly with the way his fingers lazily stroke a path from the side of her breast all the way down to her hip, and she begins pressing open mouthed kisses along his neck.

"Don't knock _that_ off." He adds, his voice quiet and throaty. "I guess that – that's all right to continue."

Anita nudges his adam’s apple with her nose before giving it a chaste kiss, feeling him rest his cheek against her head with a sigh. She echoes him, more content in this moment than she’d like to admit, ignoring the small wave of sadness that laps at her insides. The feeling of being at ease is always followed by guilt, because her very gratification triggers the reminder of how much she has had to sacrifice her dignity for this fragment of peace. It feels like both losing and winning, and that worries her.

Frankie’s been silent during her inner turmoil and she realizes he’s still cuddling her with no small amount of surprise. “Get lost in that big head of yours?” She murmurs, equal parts curious and nervous at what he could possibly be thinking.

He doesn’t turn towards her but continues to stare into the pillow, and his voice is next to her ear when he asks, “Do you want to know why I joined the Vampire Army?”

Taken aback by the change of topic her hands still their absent stroking on his back and she frowns. “What?”

“That’s my secret. Why I joined. I thought it would be obvious to Ed but,” He pauses, swallowing, “I guess he thinks less of me than I thought.”

“So why did you?”

He raises on his forearms above her, eyes glowing in the dark again, “I joined because soldiers are given human blood.”

There’s a part of her thrilled to hear him confess something so earnestly to her, even if it’s also a bit of a let down. “Big secret, Frankie.” She replies flatly.

“I don’t mean for me,” He says, sounding slightly offended, “Guess you don’t think much of me either.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Anita laughs darkly.

She can’t see him but somehow she can sense the smile on his face as his head drops for a second and he looks back up, confirming her suspicions when there’s mirth in his voice as he acknowledges, “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

“So what are you trying to say, that you joined the army for the blood,” She pauses in thought before remembering what he said about it being obvious to Edward, and suddenly it makes sense. “For Edward. In case he lets himself starve?” He doesn’t reply but it was a rhetorical question anyway; she knows it’s true from the way he won’t meet her eyes. “Frankie…”

“Look – you have your secret. Let’s not act like we’re suddenly bonding or some shit. And if you mention a word of this to Ed – “

“I’d have to tell him we’re fucking first and I’d rather spare myself that embarrassment. My lips are sealed.” She teases. Even though she’s emotionally still processing that Frankie Dalton actually just opened up to her, she just wants to find that ignorant bliss they were floating in again.

“Fuck you.” He retorts, his hand running along the length of her naked body. “I’m the one sleeping with the wall rat.”

She parts her legs more so he fits between them more comfortably and drapes her arms around his shoulders. She doesn’t know when they reached this level of familiarity or how this banter became foreplay for them. “Ooh, Dalton. You know sweet talk is my weakness.” She leans up and bites his lower lip, pulling on it as he chuckles before moving on to give his neck attention.

There's a few things that Anita has learned through trial and error from these moments with Frankie. One, for example, is that his breath will hitch – without fail – every single time she drags her teeth from just below his ear, straight down, to the two small puckered scars that mark his throat like freckles. She repeats said action, earning the stuttered breath and following sigh from deep within his chest.

Maybe it's a vampire kink – to have the spot where he was bitten be the central focus of her teeth and tongue – or maybe his sensitive spot has always been there, but it doesn't really matter why. She's long given up on the _why_ of what she does. The only thing that matters now is that _that_ sound sends a jolted rush of heat from her stomach straight to between her thighs, and moments like these are the only times that she feels free again.

A bad decision it may be but it's _her_ decision, and that makes all the difference.

**Author's Note:**

> This does not take place directly after the first one, just so you know. That's why there's more familiarity and comfort and acceptance from Anita in this one. Hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading!  
> Lastly, I'm not going to mark this as complete because I might write more for Frankie and Anita. I'm thinking there's a chance that I'll occasionally post a drabble of their relationship if I'm feeling inspired, and I kind of wanted to show a bit of Edward and Anita's relationship as well. I don't know if anyone's interested in that or not, so let me know.


End file.
